NCISGT
by scousemuz1k
Summary: Originally writen a year ago for a fanzine. Tabby friendship - Tony's having trouble with a 'ghost' and there's only one person he'll turn to for help. Three chapters in all.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: I know there've been quite a few 'haunted Tony' stories recently, but no I'm not jumping on the bandwagon. I wrote this a year ago, for a 'zine, and decided to risk it on FF.**

N.C.I.S.G.T.

by scousemuz1k

chapter 1

The bull-pen was emptying rapidly; it was one of those rare nights when everyone had tied up everything, and no-one wanted to get caught for anything else, and they were all trying to leave with some dignity and no sign of indecent haste. The members of the Major Case Response Team were no different from anybody else; they liked a private life when they could lay claim to one, and they headed for the elevator. Abby had come up from the lab for a chat while the last few tests ran out, and as McGee called goodnight to her, she went back down to put her babies to bed.

She stopped dead at the entrance to her domain, blinking in surprise – one member of the MCRT _hadn't_ headed home. He sat hunched up on one of her swivel chairs, head down, dangling a grinning Bert idly between his hands, and the bemused, unhappy expression he was wearing sent Abby rushing to his side at once.

"To-neee! What's wrong?" She pulled up another chair, sat beside him, detached Bert, who remained on his lap, and took his hands.

Tony laughed; a wry, unamused, embarrassed sound. He looked at her and shrugged his shoulders. "I expected 'what are you doing here'…"

"Well, I'd have asked that if I'd needed to," she said practically. "Something's wrong. You're here, so you want to talk to me and Bert about it." She waited… Tony said nothing, but shifted awkwardly in his chair, and Bert trumped impatiently. "So, talk, then."

"Don't know where to begin." His voice was low, and a little shaky, and she felt suddenly rather afraid. How dreadful could this_ be_?

"_Tony_… Well, let me start you off. Why did you come to me? Not Gibbs? Or Ducky? Or – or Jimmy? I know you talk to him sometimes, and he talks ever such good sense… people ought to listen to him more often – but you do of course, so -" She collected herself. "What is it that I can do that no-one else can?"

He squeezed her hands, then let go of them, and what he said next made her realise that he was giving her the chance to run.

"You can tell me if I'm being haunted. Because if I'm not, I must be losing my mind."

Abby's reaction was pure Sciuto. Her eyes widened. "Oh, wow, Tony! Who's haunting you? Tell me! Oh – it's not – "

"No!" He grabbed her hands back; he didn't really even want to hear the name. It was difficult to speak it. "It's not… Kate. I don't know… it's _my_ thoughts… it's like being haunted by _me_."

She read his mind. "You're not suddenly schizophrenic, Tony," she told him earnestly. "You have so many random pretend insanities you like to play with; suddenly acquiring a real one just isn't you. Start at the beginning."

Funny how Abby's sideways view of the world always brought comfort somehow. He smiled wanly, and took a deep breath.

"You remember… when… not long after she... died…I told you…" he dragged in another long breath, and bit the bullet. "I went running, in East Potomac Park. Grey, chilly morning… I heard her footsteps behind me, keeping time…"

"You said Kate was watching your six. I remember that. I cried a bit. So did you. But, I thought you said this wasn't Kate."

"It's not. You know… I've never done that exact route again, ever. I never will. But three mornings ago… I was doing the circuit by the Tidal Basin, and I heard the footsteps. I put my hand on my Sig and turned round; there wasn't anyone else about. And then I thought, 'Oh, but there is,' and it wasn't me. It wasn't me thinking it." He glared; he glared defiantly at Abby of all people, what was he _doing._.. but he dared her to scoff. She just tilted her head to one side, and he subsided guiltily.

"It wasn't you?" Abby's gaze was intense, but her tone wasn't disbelieving.

"That's right. I didn't hear a voice… I'm not hearing voices, Abby!" he protested anxiously, although he knew she hadn't accused him.

She said nothing, but her steady gaze said _'I know that, silly!'_

"The thought came into my mind, and I didn't put it there; that's the closest I can explain. It freaked me out for a minute, then I shrugged, and kept on running. I figured it was my own footsteps echoing off the bridge, and it didn't happen again. Next morning, I ran there again, just to show myself I wasn't put off by a stupid idea. Except that I felt as if I wasn't just showing _me_. It didn't happen when I passed the bridge. Hah. So there."

He shook his head, and again Abby didn't interrupt as he willed himself to go on. She just went on squeezing his hands, rubbing her thumbs comfortingly over the bases of his.

"It happened," he said tightly, "about two hundred yards further on, where there was nothing for an echo to bounce off… and it wasn't in time with my feet. And a thought came into my mind that was like… like twenty years ago – my frat brothers laughing at me when I wouldn't take their word about something. It was like, _'come on, DiNozzo, you know something's going on here.'_ I thought I should just get it out of my head, and then the next thought was no, don't – that it needed to be _in_ there. It felt like a _plea_… and it felt stubborn, Abs, as stubborn as I am. It was like a reflection of me… younger me that I haven't been for years, suddenly back with me. I'm not making any sense, am I?"

"It needed to be there," Abby echoed softly. "Go on…"

"It keeps on happening, at random moments… I didn't get a chance to run this morning… woke up late – would you believe I hadn't slept that well? So I suppose I thought nothing would happen... but odd times when there's nothing particular to occupy my mind – I keep on thinking of my frat brothers, and how good those times were, when no-one expected anything of me that I couldn't give, that I wasn't _happy_ to give! Between high school and Pa's expectations, Pa's disappointments... and leaving OSU and starting to hop police departments every two years or so…" his eyes were wistful. "No pressure – the academic work was a cinch, nobody was on my back and everybody was my friend. All those pretty girls... who only wanted you to give them a good time for a while..."

He grimaced, a little embarrassed, but remembered that Abby knew more about him than anyone else even thought they did, and loved him anyway. He swallowed hard. "The last time I did – think about it, I mean, I was sitting at my desk and I had to pretend I'd dropped something and go rooting around on the floor so the others wouldn't see my face – this wave of pain... of _longing_, I think – washed over me. I got the feeling of what it was like… _was_, not _would be _like_,_ to have all that, for a short, happy time, and then have it all taken away. It wasn't me, Abs. It was someone else who felt like that. Who felt... heartbroken."

He shook his head again, ruefully. "It's like I'm thinking like a younger me who, maybe had… I asked, _'Did you_ _die?_' I actually wanted to hear someone say something, but -" he shrugged - "Hell, nobody did. I just got this feeling of…things not being simple. No simple answer... But I think he…it… whoever's in my head, needs me; there's some reason why it's my head, not anyone else's. Not the frat-boy thing either -"

"Not the frat-boy thing?" Abby was puzzled. "But you keep mentioning it. It's in there somewhere. It must have something to do with it."

"I don't think it needs me to go back to being one – I sure hope not... although I do get this feeling of kindred spirits – not certain I like it! I asked what I was supposed to do, and I got the feeling that I could work it out. Strewth, Abs, just listen to me! Is any of this actually possible? You see why I came to you?"

"Well, together, maybe we can, Tony. And of _course_ I'm the right one to come to with this." Abby reached across and brushed her fingertips across his forehead, and her ferocious tone was the complete foil to the tenderness of her touch. "You look exhausted, Mister. Does this visitor remind you to eat?"

Tony shook his head vaguely. "Visitor... OK, that's what we'll call it then. All I get lately is the feeling I should be patient. But…"

"But?"

He was back to staring at the floor. "You really will think I'm crazy…"

She smiled at him with immense affection. "You are, Tony. But not the way you mean. Tell me."

"When I decided I'd come down to see you, I remembered a sketch Kate did of me… you see, Kate again… with my tongue hanging out watching a girl go by."

Abby drew her breath in slowly. "Wow… you think Kate sent this visitor to you?"

He looked at her helplessly. "Maybe I'd _believe_ in all this if it were her… Well, I started laughing… I got the feeling – that tongue hanging out feeling... that you're _hot._ Well, you know I think you are, but this wasn't me. The visitor likes you. I damn' well stopped laughing" His broad smile twisted into unhappiness and discomfort. "See? Crazy. I want this to stop, Abs."

"'Kay…" She jumped off her chair and wrapped him in an Abby hug, which he leaned into, and didn't fight, closing his eyes and drinking in, while he could, the feeling of safety in his best friend's arms. When she released him, she said firmly, "The first thing is for the two founder members of N.C.I.S.G.T. to walk round to the nearest pizza place, and get you fed a bit. We can talk more, and see what we can do."

"G.T.?"

"Ghost-hunting Team, Tony. What else?"

NCISNCISNCIS

He'd said it before; she was the most healing person to be around that he'd ever met in his life. They didn't speak during the trip in two elevators, but she linked her arm through his, and held him up, emotionally as well as physically. She was far more at home with the dark and occult side of human nature than he was, far more in tune with the weirdness of the universe, and his story hadn't fazed her one bit. He'd been worried that even Abby wouldn't have been able to listen to him without sending for Ducky.

It was as they stopped to speak with Adie, the security guard at the front door, and the man himself appeared, that Tony got his next kick in the guts. He had no idea who the distinguished gentleman with Ducky was, a man about the same age as the Medical Examiner, but the agent had to drop the coat he was carrying, and feign annoyance checking the pockets as he picked it up again, until he had his game face back in place.

"Anthony, Abigail! It's so good to see that I'm not the only one who's able to leave at a decent hour! Ah… this is Doctor Gilbert Collingwood, my bridge partner for tonight. We've been down in Autopsy, planning our strategy, before challenging all comers at the Marriot."

The other man chuckled jovially. "A cool place, for preparing to keep cool heads." His eyes ran over Abby in a way that would have made Tony's hackles rise if they hadn't already been standing on end. He kept his face absolutely under control as the ME completed the introductions; even so, the other man shot him a very searching look as they shook hands. There was an aroma of good whisky in the air; some sampling of Ducky's finest had clearly been going on down in the ME's domain. Over the man's nose ran the sort of network of thready red veins that instantly suggested this was a regular thing for him. Tony stepped back and drew 'nice guy' around him like a comforter, grounded by Abby's arm through his.

He groaned in relief as the two doctors turned back to head for the parking lot, and as soon as they were out of the front door, Abby asked urgently, "What?"

"That obvious, huh? I hope Ducky didn't see it."

"I felt you shudder, Tony. And you were really stiff and tense all the time we were standing there."

"That guy, Collingwood, Abs. As soon as I saw him, the alarm bells went off in my head. I thought danger…I felt fury… helplessness… all directed at him. Not me. The visitor. I mean, I didn't like the guy for his leering at you. Hell, I didn't like him period, without the outside influence – but the feeling in my head, he... it... hated him!"

"I got that, Tony," Abby nodded in agreement. "I saw... bonhomie, self-interest, duplicity; probably great attributes for playing bridge – ooh, don't tell Ducky I said that – 'cause if he's like that he's really not the sort you'd expect Ducky to be friends with, 'cause Ducky's not like that at all... well, except for the bonhomie of course, but Ducky's is genuine. Perhaps he's just stuck with him for tonight. Your friend reacted to him – did you see the look_ he _gave _you_? Course you did, you notice everything. It was as if he saw _him_ in your eyes. Scary."

"Saw_ him_?" He shook his head in protest. Abby couldn't hug him since they were still within sight of Adie, so she wrapped her right arm round his left like a python as they walked, and squeezed that instead. It worked; Tony subsided.

"Yeah, so, maybe he did. So… this visitor chose me as the happy recipient of his thoughts… and it has something to do with that guy – aaahh, listen to me, talking like all this is _real_! But if he doesn't give us something to go on, what does he expect us to do about it?" They waited, the goth studying her friend's face anxiously, but no random ideas obliged by hopping into his head.

Now it was Abby's turn to shudder, and Tony put his arm round her shoulders as they walked. They eased into laughing and joking, and he told her with a grin, "Hey…as long as Abs loves me, I can face the world, let alone the visitor."

"You believe he's there, then," she said with relief. "No more talk of going mad." He looked into her greeny-grey eyes, and smacked a kiss on her forehead. When they'd collected their favourite pizza, as they stepped back into the cold evening, he put his arm back again. With her height it wasn't easy for her to burrow under his shoulder, but she managed it.

Tony gave her the pizza to carry, to keep her warm, and put his cheek against her hair companionably, and they walked back towards the Yard in comfortable silence.

They were level with the Navy Yard Chapel when he surprised her by stopping suddenly in its shadow. She looked up at him, puzzled by the look on his face. It wasn't anything she'd ever seen on her friend's face before. What..?

Her eyes widened – he wanted to kiss her.

Out of the blue… or rather the dark night sky, here he was looking into her eyes; what was going on? She blinked… _Tony_…he was hot, and they found each other attractive, but... they'd always acknowledged it, and laughed about it, and never acted on it; it was in every way a Bad Thing. Yet now he was touching her hair, he hadn't said a word but his face was drawing nearer to hers, and her breath shortened; oh, she wanted to close the distance very much… hadn't she always wondered what kissing Tony would be like? But right now, one of them was going to have to say no – she took a reluctant breath –

He whirled swiftly away from her and punched the chapel wall hard, swearing long and violently under his breath as the shock of pain ran up his arm like electric current..

"Tony…" She went to him and put her hand on his shoulder as he leaned his forehead against the Victorian brickwork.

"I'm… sorry, Abs… I'm so sorry…" His voice was thick and hoarse. "It… Look, it was him. The thought just… He wanted to… try it on with you… he's a frat boy all right, the bastard. I'd _never_ hurt you, Abs."

"I know, Tony. Rule twelve…"

He turned back to her, and held her shoulder gently with his left hand; his right hung at his side and dripped blood from the knuckles. "Nuts rule twelve, Abby," he said forcefully. "Rule twelve exists for Gibbs' sake. Because he got bitten. If I saw a good reason for it I'd break it without hesitation."

"So…" she said, trying to be light, "I'm not a good reason?"

"The best, Abs," he said shakily. "The very best. But you mean far too much to me… to go treating you like you're just any available pretty girl. Like a frat-boy would." He sighed. "Sheeeesh, Abs – it's horrific having to look back at my younger self like this… I mean, what an ass… I'm _sorry_…"

She took his hand and peered at the skinned and bleeding joints in the failing light. "Oh, Tony…" Her big, luminous eyes lifted to his face, full of sympathy and pain. "Distraction by pain... you _are_ crazy, DiNozzo! Let's get back to my lab and fix this… and fill you with pizza and make you feel better. Did you feel anything from him when you said no?"

He defiantly put his arm back round her. "_Oh_, yeah. Guilt… backing off… whatever he wants with our bumptious Dr. Collingwood, he needs me to do it. He _chose_ me to do it. If there'd been words, it was like, hey, man… no offence, just kidding around… if thoughts could wear a silly grin..." He gulped. "He's me all over again, Abs."

"He, whoever he is, is an irresponsible student type. _You_are a federal agent who risks his life every day for the sake of others. So he needed your help; he knew you'd meet the man, and that you were the sort who _would _help. I don't want to hear any more rubbish just because you're upset."

Another gulp. "'Kay…"

Tony shoved his hand down into his pocket to conceal it as they stopped to give Adie a wedge of pizza, and headed back down to the sanctuary of the lab.

TBC

**AN: I try to restrain myself from grovelling, but this isn't my usual thing, so I _would_ like some feedback. Please?**


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: Thanks AWall who wasn't logged in; I appreciate the kind review.**

N.C.I.S.G.T.

by scousemuz1k

chapter 2

Tony's knuckles were neatly bandaged; most of the pizza was gone. N.C.I.S.G.T. sat side by side using lap tops to find out everything they could about Gilbert Mosedale Collingwood, MD. He had retired from his prestigious position as a senior hospital administrator in Boise, Idaho four years ago, and moved to DC, where he was now chairman of the board of several local charities, and a pillar of his church, bridge and golf clubs. All more than above board.

_Look closer_. Tony knew that idea came from outside, since he already knew what he'd do next. Reading between the lines was something he'd been doing for years. Reading what was left out was also something he excelled at. _"Stuff cryptic," _hegrumbled._ "Either butt out, or tell us what to look for."_

Abby raised an eyebrow. "You're still mad at him."

Tony sighed. "Yeah, Abs, you bet I am. _I'm_the one left feeling guilty here."

She reached for his hand, and inspected the knuckles she'd bandaged. "Flex it for me," she commanded. Tony obliged; his hand moved okay, and he didn't let his face give away the fact that it hurt. "So you should be," she said severely, deliberately misunderstanding. "Distraction by pain, you big klutz. It would have hurt less if you'd just let me slap you." Except of course, that she wasn't at all sure she would have done. Well, at least it made him smile. "What would you have done if you couldn't use your gun tomorrow? And what will God think of you punching his chapel?"

They both giggled and bumped foreheads, back on their double even keel. (_Hey, we're a catamaran, _Tony thought.) And neither one of them knew how much the other was wishing they_ could_ break rule twelve.

"He worked in Boise for three years," Tony said after a while. "Before that, eight years in Oklahoma City. Trenton before that, nine years... Only jobs in the Capital are good enough for our Gilbert. Oh, look, before that it was Atlanta."

"He gets around a lot. And each job he moves to… he's doing more and more admin, and less and less medicine. Maybe he's not competent. Maybe he killed our ghost!" She frowned. "Tony?"

The big man was wincing and pressing his temples with his fingertips, the dressings white on the fingers of his right hand. "It's not simple. But he knows you're smarter than me…"

The goth leapt to her feet, (she never simply stood up, he'd noticed earlier... she sort of Abbylaunched... his human abbylaunch... would that be a good name for a catamaran..._ get a grip_!) glaring. She put her hands on his shoulders and looked hard at him. "Tony, he can carry the frat-boy thing way too far. We're seriously going to stop trying to help if he keeps on dissing you like this! If he doesn't stop it, he can get right out of your head, because it's not going to do him any good staying in there!"

Tony beamed. "Aw, my Abs! Ssshhh... I love it when you go on the warpath. I really think he was only teasing… the way I do. But I've no idea what he means by not simple. Yet," he added sharply in case the invader in his head had anything else to say about it. "Let's run the good doctor's name through criminal records in those cities, see if there's anything."

Abby nodded, and sat down again. "I'm on Boise."

After a few moments, Tony said thoughtfully, "Conviction here for drunk driving, back home in Pittsburgh when he was twenty-two. Dad spoke up for him, bigwig at a local hospital, said he'd been celebrating with his buddies, about passing a very important exam. Dad said he'd been a little foolish, would take him in hand, was going to make a fine young doctor, blah blah blah… judge lapped it up, let him off with a warning. Six years later, walks away from wrapping his car round a tree. Claims concussion made him leave the scene; by the time they catch up with him, blood alcohol level can't prove a thing."

"Do we perceive a pattern here, Holmes?" Abby asked, wrinkling her forehead. She rose to her feet and began to pace, hands clasped behind her. "Years later, the gentleman has acquired the florid complexion of the habitual imbiber."

"Well observed, my dear Watson; you will no doubt have detected the aroma of single malt Scotch Whisky in the air…" Tony joined her, holding up an index finger – a mannerism that always made Abby chuckle. They paced in opposite directions, pivoting at the same time and passing each other mid-distance. He was struck by a feeling of irritation, and thought back, '_Tough. You were the_ _one who wanted __**me**__ to have patience'_. He plummily continued the game as a matter of principle. No ghost was going to tell him what to do. "It would seem that a fondness for the cup that cheers was putting the doctor too oft in his cups for him to be a good practitioner of his craft."

"Ooooh, Sherlock, I _like_ it!" They stopped and high-fived, giggling happily, the tension eased, at least for the moment.

A pattern did emerge. Dr. Collingwood had had several brushes with the law, all connected with drink, but nothing ever proved. The respite hadn't lasted long; having been a cop in the same situation more times than he cared to remember, Tony was beginning to feel irritated on behalf of the investigators. There were always good reasons, insufficient evidence frequently being one. The statements of the arresting officers were not considered sufficient cause for prosecuting a pillar of society, which was ridiculous, and Tony's feeling of irritation was building into anger. He began to pace again, in earnest. Abby looked up from her machine enquiringly; he told her what was on his mind, and she frowned. She sat him down again and took his hands.

"I understand, Tony. You're getting angry because you can see that strings have been pulled… friends in high places, evidence disappearing… undermining of the people on the front line; it wouldn't be the first time we've seen it. And our visitor's getting angry too, because this affects him in some way."

Tony thought for a moment, his eyes screwing up. He was developing an uncomfortable thump behind his temples. "We don't know if it's recent, or happened a long time ago."

"Yes, we do, Supersleuth. If the visitor can get into someone's head, he'd have done it long ago, if he'd been killed long ago, that is."

Her friend nodded his acceptance of the point, then his eyes widened. "There goes that 'not simple' feeling again. He wasn't killed. Every time one of us says killed, it's his way of saying no."

"But something bad happened. Because of Collingwood's drinking. To him? To a friend? If it was a friend, why does he need you? Why can't he fix it himself?"

"So… to him, then, recently. Here in DC. Because Collingwood's here, and so am I. Here. Recently. Not killed."

His staccato speech alarmed her slightly, as did the lines of pain growing around his eyes and mouth. She seized his hands again. "Tony… he needs to go easy on you… you can't think straight if he's giving you a blinding headache. He is, isn't he…"

"Don't think he can help it, Abs… gotta think. Gotta _think_. If not killed, what?"

Abby almost shrieked – "Coma!" This time she leapt up so quickly her chair fell over with a crash, and she stood swaying.

Tony stood up to steady her, and looked at her closely and anxiously as his own pain subsided a little. Her eyes were wide, and her hand pressed over her mouth. "Abs… that was him?" He picked her chair up and sat her carefully down again.

She nodded, thunderstruck. "OMG, Tony… how d'you cope with this? I want him out of here. Now!"

Tony reached across and drew her into an awkward hug, not easy with them both perched on office chairs. Outwardly he was calm as he stroked her back and soothed her. Inside he was raging. 'You want me to help, you leave her alone. Stay out of her head or you can haunt me forever and you'll still get nothing from me.' Once again the apologetic backing off thought came that he'd had earlier, and he got the clearest single idea yet, that the visitor had been trying to stop hurting him. '_Well don't do it by hurting her_. _We're getting there. Be patient_,' he thought again, '_like I said, it's_ _what __**you've**__ been telling __**me**__.'_

"He's gone," Abby said. "I am _so_ sorry, Tony… I'm the one who's supposed to understand this sort of thing… and I had _no_idea how horrible it feels to have someone else inside your head! It… it's like mental _molestation_! I'm so sorry! I am going to help you get rid of him!" she finished resolutely.

"What did you feel?"

"A thought… just like you said! It wasn't a bad thought, just kind of 'not dead, not alive' – it was just that it was _there_…"

"Ssh… it won't bother you again…"

He hugged her once more for luck, and they both swung back to their computers. In less than a minute, they'd found it; Tony from ambulance records, and Abby from the first hospital she hacked into.

"Rex Christopher Meier, aged twenty," she read. "Studying medicine at George Washington University. Four nights ago… struck by a hit and run driver on Ohio Drive South whilst out running. Suffered severe injuries to head and body, is now on life support in the trauma unit at Washington Hospital Centre..." She bit her lip and sighed as she read on. "Oh... Not expected to recover. Just twenty..." She looked at Tony. "It's him, isn't it?"

The big agent simply nodded. He'd known, from the feeling of relief and the ebbing away of pressure, before Abby even said the young man's name. He got into GWU's files, and brought up a picture. They both sat staring at it for a while, and the sense of loss and bewilderment that hung in Tony's mind was almost palpable. _It's me, _the SFA thought, _I was him_… A good looking (and knew it) young man smiled, no, _laughed_back out at them; tawny brown hair on the long side, bright, intelligent blue eyes, _perfect_teeth, and an expression that said, the world is my oyster, and hey, I _love _oysters.

And now, Rex Christopher Meier couldn't understand why it had all been taken away.

"How does he know who did it? Is he sure?"

Tony waited, but there was nothing from Rex but the heaviness. "I don't know, Abs. I don't know. But we've got the crime, the victim and the perpetrator. How do we prove it?"

"It's not even our crime, and we'll get a short answer from Metro if we say we got our information from a ghost. Oh, and by the way, the person isn't actually dead."

Tony smiled fondly at her. "Very succinct. Weird, but definitely succinct."

He rang Metro anyway, and in spite of the hour, found someone he knew, who knew about the case. He sounded apologetic but sincere as he spun his contact a yarn, when he and the officer both knew that all Metro would actually care about in the end would be the possibility of their workload being reduced by one case. He could understand that. The upshot was that all the information Metro had was sent to them immediately, including footage from the nearest camera, with a promise not to tell anyone else about it. The last thing Tony wanted was hard evidence that he might have to explain to Gibbs, of what he was up to.

They both watched, stunned, as the grainy, far too distant image showed the runner vainly trying to avoid the erratically driven car. He was flung into the air, and landed on the sidewalk; one moment an athletic young man, the next, nothing more than a ruined, rag-doll tangle of limbs and fabric. The present vitality and the future promise... gone.

The car reversed; (it was a late model, large Pontiac, same model that Collingwood drove;) two figures got out and looked at the injured man; the passenger took a step towards him, but was dragged back by the driver, who shoved him, or possibly her, back into the car, which then turned and drove away from the camera. They'd have to clean the image up, but Abby was sure she could get an ID on the driver from it; the build was certainly Collingwood's.

After a while, she spoke almost tearfully. "The report says he wasn't found until almost an hour later, by which time there'd been severe intra-cranial bleeding. If he'd been hospitalised earlier, he'd have stood a very good chance of recovery. Oh, Tony… I take back all the cross things I said! I can't blame him wanting justice. Maybe, he can't actually die and get on with eternity until he gets it! Maybe he's stuck here unless we help!"

Four days ago, Tony would have bitten his tongue so's not to tell her she was being fanciful. Now, he had to think differently. "He saw the bastard, Abs. He saw him stand over him and do nothing. Maybe the witness said his name… Right. Let's see if Collingwood's credit card can tell us where he was drinking four nights ago… we might be able to find out who he was with."

That drew a blank, however. "Not really surprised," Tony said mordantly. "It was a long shot, seeing that the doctor is a married man. He wouldn't like his wife to see his credit card statement and learn where and who with he does his drinking – or anything else."

"But maybe that _was_his – I'm being naïve, aren't I."

Tony punched the top of her arm lightly. "When you remember how he looked at you? Yup."

The forensic ace ran the film again, and they watched carefully. The gait, even at a distance, suggested teetering high heels, and a wiggle. "'Yup' it is, Tony… I think the doctor's been cradle-snatching. Hmm…Would you say his body-language suggests intimidation?"

"You think, whoever she is, he's frightened her into keeping quiet."

"He must have… unless she's besotted with him – yeucch, what am I saying? – Or he's bought her off; or she'd have gone to the police."

"Or she's an 'escort'," Tony added. "A young lady in that profession wouldn't want to talk to the law."

Abby thought a bit more, and smiled. "Still, there's no way _this_evidence will be able to disappear… he doesn't know we've got a copy. What… Tony, what have I _said_?"

"Abs!" Tony's face had drained of all colour. He held up a hand – _wait_ – as he pulled out his cell phone and speed-dialed. The staccato speech was back. "Making evidence disappear. Ducky. Gone straight to voice mail."

"But how could Ducky make –"

"He _can't_. And he wouldn't if he could. But Collingwood doesn't know that. He's so used to calling in the old boy network, and having people make things go away... he'd just assume the usual rules apply. But have you ever met a more principled man than Ducky? Abs… the guy's a _new_ bridge partner… What if he'd arranged to be Ducky's new partner just to get alongside him, to persuade him…"

"He's not been caught yet…" Abby bent over her keyboard again muttering in an urgent undertone. "But he's afraid the evidence will lead to him in the end .Where did Ducky say the bridge club was… the Marriot, that's it…" She brought the hotel's number up, called and asked for the appropriate extension. No, they were afraid Dr. Mallard wasn't there. They'd been expecting him, and his partner, but they hadn't arrived. So sorry.

As Abby was listening, she was bringing up the location of Ducky's cell phone. "To the north," she said anxiously, going back through the info they'd pulled on Collingwood, to find his cell number. "Out near Indiana Avenue." After a few moments when Tony sat mutely hoping it wouldn't be so, "And _he's_with him. Tony, Indy Avenue -"

"I know, sweetheart. Metro PD headquarters." He was on his feet, heading for the door. "Call them. And call Gibbs."

Abby snatched up her laptop and simply followed him. "From my cell, Tony. I'm coming with you."

Tony paused for a moment, turning back to face her. "Abby," he said firmly, "Gibbs'll gut me with a K-bar if I take you into danger. And I don't have time to argue."

"I know." She was matter-of-fact. "And I'm not leaving you. I'll stay in the car and wait for Gibbs. Don't worry, I promise, Tony! In the mean time, you drive, I'll track."

Sigh… "Come on, then. My guess is they're headed for the evidence garage… got to get to them before they get there. It's just about as irrational a scheme as I might expect a habitual drunk to scrape together. He doesn't even know if there_is_any physical evidence!"

That was true; there was very little, only photographs of Rex Meier's injuries, more photos and measurements of the tyre marks, and a few paint flecks from the victim's clothes. They were with Tony's contact, ready to be sent over to the Navy yard as soon as possible.

"When Collingwood finds Ducky can't talk his way in, Lord knows what he'll do. He's already been drinking tonight, _and_ he's already killed, or near as damn…"

They didn't bother to collect an agency car, but raced to Tony's Mustang. Ducky was wise, wily and resourceful, Tony told himself as they ran down to the parking lot. He could certainly look after himself... Not a chance he was prepared to take; the classic hot car took off with a squeal.

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: To Jay, who wasn't signed in, thanks for two kind reviews.**

N.C.I.S.G.T.

by scousemuz1k

chapter 3

Well, it seemed Gibbs had put his cell in a pickle jar again, and screwed the lid down; Abby called McGee to go to his place and alert him. To his credit, Tim, who'd just stepped out of the shower and was really looking forward to a couple of hours challenging all comers in a Battle of Light and Dark, didn't argue, or waste time on questions.

"On my way... keep us in touch," he told her as he banged his shin on the edge of the loo while he tried to dress himself one-handed. It was only after he'd disconnected that he allowed himself to think of what Gibbs was going to say about Abby going on a case. He winced. "Sooner you than me, Tony," he thought. But hey, he added to himself, this was _Ducky_...

It was only after_ she'd_ disconnected that Abby grumbled about the Boss. "Just because _he _flouts rule three all the time, doesn't mean he won't kill us if we don't tell him what we're up to," she yelled over the roar of the Mustang's engine.

"Got a bigger problem," Tony yelled back. "How do we explain_ why_ we're up to it?"

"Wo – whoa – working on it!" The powerful soft-top didn't have OMG handles, so Abby hung on to the side of her seat with one hand, and rescued her laptop with the other.

"Are they at Metro yet?"

"No." She held the screen up near her face and attempted to focus on it. "Stationary about half a mile away. We're less than a mile from them. I've got a theory on that, Tony… but I'm really having trouble with the connection at this speed, though… _and_ reading it..."

"Sorry... Ducky's car… the Morgan. If they went in that – Ducky will have made sure they did… after the Ari thing, you fitted it with an immobiliser… you're tracking it, right?"

"I knew there was some reason why you're a detective, Mr. DiNozzo! It's underneath the seat; you can switch it over without anyone noticing. Cuts the petrol feed… sputter sputter, stop, ooh, breakdown! Ducky's stalling. He's _so_ clever!"

Tony grimaced and took another corner far too fast. "I'd rather he'd just walked into Metro and been refused access to their locker… even if Collingwood's threatening him in some way, he'd be better off in a building full of cops! You did get through to them, didn't you?" he finished anxiously.

Abby shook her head reluctantly. "The call kept dropping out – by now they'll think I'm just some nuisance..." She bit her lip. "I know... you don't have to tell me, Tony... if I'd stayed in the lab I'd have got through. I should have asked Tim... I'm sure his cell phone's more up-to-date than their whole system! I'll try him again."

"It's OK Abs – we can get to them faster than they can get to Metro. Don't worry." He hoped he was right.

He was silent for a moment, and then said more quietly, so Abby had to concentrate to hear him, "If I got that right, young Rex just went up in my estimation. I got a feeling of revenge not being so wonderful after all, and danger, and apology even... and then I thought of Ducky being a good person. I think he's telling me that saving Ducky's the most important thing here!"

NCISNCISNCIS

The stately British touring car was about fifty yards away. Ducky had managed, conveniently, to 'break down' right under a street lamp, and it looked like a still from a gangster movie, Tony thought. He'd cut the Mustang's engine and lights, drifted round the corner and come to a halt in a patch of shadow. He pulled a dark NCIS jacket from behind his seat, and as he shrugged into it, he said softly, "Abs…"

Meekly, "Yes, Tony?"

"Dammit, Abs, don't give me that innocent look. I'm in enough trouble with Gibbs already, so I want you to leave the wilful wild-child under the seat, and put on your best earnest Abigail face, and _listen _to me."

She put a finger on his lips.

"I promised, Tony. I _will_ stay here. I understand that you can do without having to look out for me as well as Ducky. I'll wait for Gibbs. Phone on silent, laptop likewise."

He touched her shoulder, with an approving smile. "That's my girl." He eased out of the car in a crouch, and hunched down beside it. "However… move over into the driver's seat. If I need a distraction, I'll just look directly at you. Do what you like – lights, horn – except for coming any nearer. How's that?"

"Yes**, **_Sir_!"

He leaned into the car, kissed her cheek, and turned, only to swing back at once. "If anything happens... if he starts to come towards you, drive away."

"Tony!"

His tone brooked no dissent. "Drive _away_, Abby." He disappeared into the night.

It was darker on the other side of the street, and not even the watcher in the shadows, who knew he was there, saw him cross over in the wake of a passing car's bright lights.

Tony slipped from one dark pool to the next, and as he came level with the long-nosed classic car, he observed that Ducky had his window open. He smiled to himself; the Doctor was a force to be reckoned with, elderly or not. If he couldn't save himself by physical means, he was easily experienced enough, and very much smart enough to give the rescuers he had no idea were there, but had faith nevertheless, their best chance. (_Mmm_… Tony thought, _a mouthful worthy of Ducky himself_.)

The ME had not only given him light to work with, but he was listening for any sound that might give him information, and making sure that the conversation going on inside the car could be heard outside. He couldn't have thought of any way that his friends might possibly have discovered his plight, but if Tony knew Ducky, his optimism would remain undiminished.

Tony could hear the calm, cultured, unthreatening tones clearly."Dr. Collingwood, I don't believe you've thought this through at all clearly. I have already explained that if you wish to go any further it will have to be on foot. These fine old vehicles have their temperamental side; she'll not start again until the carburettor's been cleaned. And however we arrive there, we cannot walk into the evidence garage… or more particularly, _you_ cannot; and even I, who am known there, would not be allowed simply to walk out of there again with evidence. We can go to the front desk, and I can attempt to convince those on duty –"

Collingwood's voice was shrill. "No! You'd find some way of alerting them! I'm not as foolish as you think me, Dr. Mallard!"

"My good fellow, it's hardly _wise _to be pointing a gun at the Medical Examiner of a federal agency, within half a mile of a police headquarters! Really, the best thing you can do is tell the authorities what happened. If this young fellow ran out in front of you as you say, then the whole sad thing was an accident – "

Tony frowned, and felt something rather similar from Rex; unlike Ducky, he'd seen the video that made it clear how little of an accident it had been.

The shrill, demanding voice went on. "I don't understand why you won't help me! We're men of science! Men of healing! Of substance! We're needed – we're_ important_! We can't be distracted by things like this! I haven't the time to be defending myself over it, my time's precious! Why can't you just do as I ask?"

Ducky paused before answering; under the other man's self-obsessed tirade he'd heard an unmistakeable sound – the click of a Sig being cocked. His eyes had widened, but Collingwood had neither seen nor heard.

The ME sighed silently with relief. He'd been listening to this long litany of self-justification for nearly an hour, and was seriously thinking, despite the close confines of the car, of taking matters into his own hands and shutting the wretched fellow's mouth with a punch, even if it risked a random shot in the gut. But this wasn't the way Donald Mallard wanted to go, at the hands of a grub like Collingwood, and he also wanted the truth to be told for the sake of the dying young man who that grub had left in the road, and hadn't even been bothered to name to him.

He went on carefully, "Because what you are asking is most fundamentally wrong, Doctor. We may be men of science, but I am no longer a man of healing. I am an instrument of justice."

Tony smiled in spite of himself – Ducky's pronouncement was delivered as dramatically as a thunderbolt hurled from heaven in divine retribution.

"I speak for those who can no longer speak for themselves. The fact that you've brought me here by force suggests to me that neither truth nor justice are on your side. Now, if I cannot persuade you to stop this lunacy, then the only thing I can do is to play it through to the bitter end. We will go to the evidence garage, and see what happens. Be warned, it will not be to your liking."

"Then I'll shoot you!"

"And confirm your guilt beyond doubt. Come, let us walk." _And give whichever of__ my_ _friends is out there, a target._ And as they stepped from the car, Tony stepped from the shadows.

"Don't move, Dr. Collingwood." So of course, the man tried to bring his gun up. "Don't _move_!" Something got through this time, and he froze. "Believe me, I can down you long before you can aim at Dr. Mallard. Drop the gun." Collingwood wasn't a brave man, and an fierce elbow to the ribs from Ducky helped him to get the message. The gun clattered onto the tarmac.

Tony was the soul of courtesy. "_Thank_ you. Ducky, would you mind?"

"Not at all, Anthony, not at all." The ME kicked the gun away, then bent in a very sprightly manner to retrieve it. He hadn't doubted for a moment; nevertheless, this was extraordinary.

"You can't have known," Collingwood squeaked furiously as Tony cuffed one wrist. "Nobody knew!"

"What… not even that nice young lady you were with that night? Macy, wasn't it?"

"Talia? She'd never dare –"

"Talia. Thank you again. Can't be more than half a dozen Talias working for what… er, an escort agency? Yes? Here in DC? We'll find her soon enough."

"You can't have known!"

"So you keep saying, Doc... but as you can see, we do."

"Indeed, Anthony, I'm most impressed myself! How did you – "

Tony didn't have an answer, so he did the only thing he could think of. He looked back at his own car in the shadows, and Abby responded at once with enthusiasm. Horn, full beam, and emergency flashers were all used at once, and Ducky turned to look that way.

"It's Abby," Tony told him with a grin.

"Ah, of course it is," the ME beamed, and started to walk towards her.

Collingwood repeated weakly, "You couldn't have known…"

"Yes, I could," Tony said calmly, as he began to reach for the other wrist, and added, simply because he wanted the man to understand that he _did_ know, "Rex told me." He paused, as Collingwood looked even more shocked, if that were possible. "Hmm – I see you know the name of the guy you put in a coma."

The result startled him; no, shocked him rigid. Looking back, he knew he would have kept quiet if he'd had any sort of premonition; however much the man deserved it, it wasn't his judgement to make.

"_Rex? Rex told you?" _Collingwood began to gasp. His face went red, then white, and he grabbed at his throat, the loose cuff flailing. Fighting for breath, he collapsed to the ground, clutching at the centre of his chest, his arms and legs moving feebly. Tony yelled "Ducky!" and the ME came hurrying back. They commenced first aid at once, with Tony giving chest compressions, but as Ducky was about to begin rescue breathing, Collingwood's eyes flew open. A tearing gasp came from his mouth; his eyes were fixed on something only he could see. "Noooo… not you… noooo…" Only a few moments later, his face carried that glazed expression of horror into eternity.

Tony, still on his knees, leaned against the Morgan, and passed his hand across his eyes. Rex had his justice… Thanks, goodbye, relief and no little satisfaction; the visitor left his thoughts for the last time. He felt relieved beyond measure, and completely whacked, and a warm hand slid under his elbow. Abby helped him up, as running footsteps approached out of the darkness. All the rest of the team. Of course.

Gibbs' rumble was quite restrained, for him. "What the hell happened here?"

The Senior Field Agent straightened himself up, preparing to blag as if his life depended on it, but Abby squeezed his arm.

"We needed a pizza, Gibbs, and we met Ducky on the way out. We didn't like the look of Collingwood at all, we thought he was a bad, bad man; so we brought the pizza back to the lab and checked him out."

"Just cuz ya didn't _like_ him?"

"Well, we needed something to do while we ate, Gibbs! We found out he _wasn't _a nice man, and we called Ducky, to say don't get in a car with him 'cause he drinks, and we couldn't get through to Ducky and he didn't go to the bridge club, and Collingwood didn't either, and we knew something was wrong so we tracked him and you know the rest 'cause I told you when I called. Well, I told Tim 'cause your phone was probably in the pickle jar again with the nails, so I called him. And we rescued Ducky and the bad man had a heart attack when Tony was arresting him. Ducky says he killed someone with his car, Gibbs! And Tony absolutely_ ordered _me not to come anywhere near, and to drive away if there was trouble, and I did what I was told so he didn't put me in any danger, and he didn't want me to come at all but I had to come because we couldn't let Ducky get into trouble and not do anything, could we?"

It was Abby at her sideways best, and Tony grinned at her fondly. "Did you breathe there, Abs?"

Gibbs muttered something about reports in the morning, and trudged away. Tim and Ziva shrugged, checked their friends really were OK, and followed him. N.C.I.S.G.T. waited with Ducky until the coroner's wagon arrived, then went wearily back to the Mustang. A few minutes later the street was as deserted as if nothing ever happened around those parts.

NCISNCISNCIS

The young man still lay in the hospital bed where he had died; all the paraphernalia of artificial life had been removed, and his parents kept vigil beside him for a while longer, unable to tear themselves away. Abby and Tony looked sorrowfully through the glass but didn't intrude.

"He died at around eight-thirty," the attending nurse said softly. "It was peaceful… Such a shame; so young and full of promise… I'm glad to hear you caught the man who did it; I'll tell his parents as soon as I can pick the right moment," she sighed, "whatever that may be. Thank you so much for coming to tell us."

As they walked back down the quiet, night-time hospital corridor, Tony managed to say what he was thinking. "I wasn't looking at my watch just then… Abs… did –"

"Did Collingwood die at eight-thirty? Mmm, about then. Don't think about it. Are you all right, Tony?

"Yeah... I think so... or I will be. I still don't believe any of it happened," he said defiantly.

Abby gave that remark all the consideration it deserved. "Bulsh," she said rudely, then softened her tone and added, "Is Rex gone?"

"Oh, yeah. I think he said thanks…"

"I don't know why he needed to mess with your head in the first place, Tony... if he could just frighten Collingwood to death, why didn't he just do that?"

"Welll... I think he wanted justice, not revenge... if we hadn't investigated, Colingwood dying of a booze induced coronary and Rex's hit and run might never have been linked. It might have ended up as a Metro cold case, like all the man's other stupidities up and down the country."

"I hope it helps his parents, that that didn't happen."

"Not sure I like Ducky being put in danger, though. Hell... he did say sorry... Rex, I mean."

There wasn't much more to say, although they both thought of Kate again, as they stepped out into the cooling evening air. They walked to the Mustang in the same comfortable silence that always lay between them when they didn't have anything particular to say. They stopped beside the car.

"Time _I_ did too," Tony told her.

"Did what? Say sorry?"

"Say thanks. Like Rex. What on earth would I have done without you?" He pulled her into an enveloping hug, she slid her arms round his waist, and they clung together for a moment, letting the tension ebb away. He spoke into her hair.

"Thanks, G.T."

"My pleasure, G.T"

The End.

**AN: I know the cliché of the dying murderer seeing their victim has been done many times before, but I've said before, I love karma. Even when it bites _my_ ass.**

**Thanks, as always, for coming along.**


End file.
